Leaving Cambridge

Two years ago, I was buying my first professional camera. The Sony NEX-VG10. It's not really a professional camera but it's a step up from the Hi8 cassette camcorder I got when I was in high school.

My greatest work was The Tommy Dean Show. In many ways, its still my greatest work. Its the only thing that makes me feel anything.

I've developed on my skills. Looking over my sloppy Occupy Boston work, the inconclusive outtakes from Storm Surge and onward through my misguided attempt at behind the scenes fashion shoot, I see spirit. But unrefined.

Fast forward. I've started doing a lot of videos for Yelp. I think I've shot too many of these and my eye is getting stale. But below is my favorite.

Emilia's Creation from Joshua Guerci on Vimeo.

Fusing discipline with passion is the next step.

Thoughts and Questions about Social Media, Communications and Networks

I want to make a series of personality profiles about people who have jobs in social media. The trick, as always, will be to look past the standard cliches and search for the meaningful story that has yet to be told.

Its the internet. I get it. Technology connects people from around the world and builds new communities based on interest and curiosity rather than region. Culture now breaks geographical boundaries. I'm actually kind of over it. The Global Village is a rehearsed concept. It's lost its charm.

I want to know about your personal village. I want to put aside technical aspects of media and look at how we communicate. Are you an especially communicative person? Where you outgoing as a child or were you relatively shy? Did you have many friends or did you tend to build few but meaningful friendships? What are the big factors?

For example, I grew up with a deaf brother. How did that shape the way I think about communication? How did that shape the way I think about language as shaping reality? Or reality as shaping language? And ultimately, how did that change my relationship to the community? These are things that I'd like to talk about in person.

If I had been raised in a different family background, I might have developed a different curiosity about the social functions of communication. Such as, if I had non-English speaking parents, seeing them as isolated from their environment and relying on me to conduct even mundane interactions, I might be inclined to see communication as building community. If I had grown up in a more intellectually stimulating environment, discussing over dinner such topics as personal preferences for either Indian or African elephans, I might see communication as expressing curiosity. If I had been raised in the old world or without mass-communication outlets, relying on verbal conversation to pass the time, I might view communication as entertainment.

Building on the foundations of communications, how have you assembled your personal social network? Do you prioritize familial relationships over friendships? Do you rely heavily on your professional networks to satisfy your personal life? Are you close to your neighbors? Or do you immerse yourself into intellectual pursuits and build friendships exclusively on interest, bridging generational gaps, overcome geographical limitations and surpassing political boundaries? More and more, these preferences are chosen rather than implied.

And finally, how does all of this change the way you engage in the business of buying selling or participate in serving humanity?

The Epic Beard Man Documentary

Did you see that video? The one where the bearded white guy beats up the black guy on the bus? I think the time is past for being amazed by the power of viral video. Also, the rabbit-like breeding nature of viral video is somewhat boring. Media begot media begot media I get it.

This is the documentary about the guy who punched the guy who cried for the ambalamps. Its about Thomas Alexander Bruso, also known as Tom Slick, also known as Epic Beard Man.

The documentary grabbed me right away because of the meme hype but kept me sucked in because it quickly transformed into a real story about a real person. Thomas is not the only one out there. It seems that absolute chance has gained him some internet fame but I quickly get the impression that Thomas is part of a trend and not such a wild beast as the Epic Beard Man title might suggest. He's actually quite sad.



We get the idea pretty quickly, that Thomas is playing a role. He's the epic anti-hero of the non-working class. One moment, he is setting himself as the villain, relaying to us how he went to a baseball game after consuming a smorgasbord of alcohol and narcotics. The next moment, he is a victim of police brutality. The story doesn't have to make sense because he is no longer trying to make sense of it. Every moment can be cooked down to a an iconic single-serving story. Time is fragmented. Cause and effect are not related and he's lost out there in the soup.



All of this is section 8, he tells us. He's referring to his house but also his self and his being. He is identifying with the labels society has suggested to him and he expresses contentment with it.

Racism is a recurring theme in his dialogue. I think he identifies with blacks, or his perception of what it means to be black. He expresses a solitude with the feelings of alienation and oppression. There might be some parallels in how the draft essentially abducted young boys and hauled them off across the sea to die. Unable to relay his thoughts in a way that is socially acceptable, he turns to violence.

This documentary made me rethink the archetype of the Vietnam vet. I wonder how many people like Thomas are out there and I wonder how many of them are leading equally epic lives.

Brothers Keeper

I used to have a friend who I will call Chuck. I loved Chuck like a man might love a brother. In the prime of our love, I would have given the shirt off my back for Chuck. Because he was my brother and I loved him.

I met Chuck when I was living in squalor in the University District. He worked at the convenient store up the street and he was my neighbor in an apartment house.

When I decided to begin the long struggle of pulling myself up by my bootstraps and go to school at Seattle University, Chuck remained where I left him. I didn't speak to him for two years.

Then, a phone call out of the blue. He needed help.

He slept on my dorm room floor for a lengthy period. My love life suffered. Understandably so, my partner did not want to sleep over when I had a strange man sleeping under my bed.

Chuck was kind of like a pet. I could not make him a key to my dorm so I would have to be there to let him in at night. Often I would come home and he would still be there, waiting for me.

Once, I came home and I caught him attempting to enter in coitus with a friend of mine. At that point, I was tempted to get Chuck neutered and reduce his natural urge to breed.

At this point I start asking myself about the value Chuck brought to my dorm room. Chuck was an expensive pet. I paid with my wallet to keep my fridge stocked so we wouldn't starve. I paid with my sex life. I paid with the risk of being caught breaking the rules of my housing agreement. What did I get in return?

A friend of mine one congratulated me on being kind enough to help the homeless, one man at a time. Of course, this was the same friend who I later found grooming a cross class romance under my bed so her opinion of my generosity was a bit biased.

The irony of sacrificing my love life for the benefit of his is not beyond me.

If Chuck and I started an epic scale rock band of such artistic genius of MGMT proportions, the price to pay might have been diminished by the infinite rewards of the riches and fame that come from being MGMT.

If I was able to support Chuck on a journey of self fulfillment, I could justify the physical expenditures by the non-material benefits. If I could have helped Chuck perfect his resume and watch him get his first stable job. If our late night conversations about our true inner selves resulted in a life changing decision, to join the military or commit to a life of religious piety, I could justify my sacrifices.

My partner rather wisely suggested to me that I did this for Chuck out of guilt. She could not explain it to be, but with growth and hindsight I am able to see what she was trying to tell me.

When I struggled in the University District, my parents supported me in the same way that I later supported Chuck. They helped me pay the bills when day labour was not enough. They helped me pay for food so I would not starve and they waited patiently for the moment to come when I would decide to change and choose to engage.

Chuck was not lucky enough to have parents like mine so I felt guilty. And from this guilt, I was able to reap nothing but dependency.

Providing for Chuck with what little provisions I was able to acquire for myself was out of a shameful kinship based on an inability to own up to my own responsibility to myself to further my own destiny. My negligence to own my responsibility turned into an unjustified feeling of responsibility for my friend Chuck.

I do not want to say that I am not my brother's keeper but I am compelled to amend all notions of brotherly love with an explanation of personal growth and co-development rather than co-dependancy. Friendship can be a beautiful thing but without notions of friendly competition and challenging each other to grow, I am afraid to say that the bonds of love can just as easily turn destructive.

there is madness at the end of the world

as promised, here is more of the video from monday night. this is a husband wife duo called star called sun. i still think they should rename the band sun called star but i'm kind of a goof ball.



again, i wish i was more confident shooting with a tripod. i used to be a pretty good at it. when i was in high school, i helped out at my local suburban mega church and piloted the beta cam that sent a signal to the giant projected image that hung over the pastor's stage.



yeah. my humble beginnings. it was the only period in my life where i attended church on a regular basis. i sat through 2 or 3 sermons a week! and when that i got old, i started doing audio for the youth group meetings. i remember one lesson in particular because a key point required me to play a song off a cd. many youth group lessons actually included a cd selection but this one was daring because it included a secular selection. one hit wonder the verve pipe and their hit single, freshmen. the song was already 2 or 3 years dated at the time of the lesson so it was particularly strange. especially because the twenty somethings really felt like they were being edgy by playing it.

not sure where that was going. maybe it all points back to the subject of the song. i kind of like the end of the world, too.